


The Light Behind Your Eyes

by padfootalecki



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-21
Updated: 2013-01-21
Packaged: 2017-11-26 09:19:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/649032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/padfootalecki/pseuds/padfootalecki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas's return from a long absence leaves Dean anxious and worried when he won't reveal where he's been, and both of them are faced with difficult choices.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Light Behind Your Eyes

“Hey, Dean, wake up,” a familiar voice rang through Dean Winchester’s ears. He sat up and looked around, disgruntled, unaware that he had drifted off while his brother was at the library.

“Ugh, dammit, Sam,” he grunted, all the while attempting to remove the sleep from his eyes. “I feel like I haven’t slept in days.”

Dean raised himself from the motel room bed slowly, groggily placing his weight on his feet, tempted to throw a pillow at Sam and continue his slumber.

“Well, we’ve got work to do, I’ve done research, and get this…”

“Get this, get that, blah blah blah, Sam, I really don’t care right now.”

“Hey! Don’t be such a crabass just because Cas…”

“We’re not talking about Cas right now! I’m just tired, that’s all.”

Sam lowered his voice, approaching his brother cautiously, “Dean, I’m sorry. It’s just… are you sure you’re okay? I know you’ve said it a thousand times, but I don’t think you can hide it anymore,” he placed a comforting hand on Dean’s shoulder.

Dean turned away almost instantly, placing himself back on the edge of the bed. He put his head in his hands briefly before replying unconvincingly, “I told you yesterday, I told you two days ago, I told you last week, I’ve been telling you all fucking year that I’m fine. I just wanna sleep.”

“You’ve said that so many times you’re starting to believe it. But I don’t.”

“And why not?”

“I heard you praying last night, and the night before that, and almost every other night before that. You’re not as quiet as you think you are. You’re not sleeping because you’re praying, Dean. You’re praying to Cas. I know you are.”

“Son of a bitch,” Dean whimpered almost inaudibly. “Son of a bitch left us.”

Sam sat beside Dean on the bed, but carefully kept his distance.

Dean continued, “Sometimes I think I hear him answer my prayers, but I’m just going fucking insane. He’s never there.”

It was true- the night before, Dean had been praying into the thin air, almost positive that this time he would get a response, and he could have sworn he heard a familiar “Hello, Dean,” behind him, but turned around to see nothing but his brother sleeping and a clock reading 4:17 a.m. After muttering a few profanities, Dean promised himself that he would stop praying to Cas because as of that night, it had been exactly one year since the angel had vanished.

Yet, sitting there on the ratty bed, his mouth spitting out words he never wanted Sam to hear, he had never been more tempted to give it one last shot. Maybe, just maybe, this time, Cas would answer. 

Maybe.

Dean pondered the idea, but moved it to the back of his mind quickly. It was nothing but false hope to him anymore. He tried his best to block out the urge to stand up mid-conversation, walk out of the room, fall to his knees, and scream to the heavens or wherever the hell Cas was. It was harder than he thought it would be.

“Dean, losing him’s been hard on me too, but…”

“Losing him? Why d’you gotta talk about him like he’s dead?” Dean could feel himself growing more and more irritated, not with Sam, but with his inability to convince himself that Cas was still out there.

“I’m sorry, it’s just that he used to come whenever you’d call, and he’s never left us for this long before. Not without giving us some sort of notice or something. I’m sorry, Dean, I really am, but you can’t keep doing this to yourself. The more you believe he’s still out there, the more it will hurt.”

“He is out there! I know he is! I’d rather have him leave us forever than have him be dead!” Dean began to raise his voice.

“Dean, you’re doing this to yourself. You’re just getting angrier and angrier because you think he’s ignoring you. I want him to be alive and well just as much as you do, but at this point, it’s just not logical,” Sam spoke more firmly.

“I just don’t get it, Sam. One day he’s here, with us, and the next he’s just… not. No reason. No explanation. He’s just gone. I don’t wanna think that he just left us, but I don’t wanna think that he’s dead. I just want him back.”

“You can’t do anything about it.”

“I know. And that’s what fucking sucks.”

They sat in an odd silence for a while. Sam tried to conjure up a way to help direct his brother’s attention away from the missing angel; while conversely, Dean began to lose the battle with his urge to pray.

Just as Sam opened his mouth to fill the room with conversation once more, Dean stood up and headed for the door wordlessly.

“Where are you going?”

Dean didn’t respond, but he didn’t need to. Sam knew the answer.

“Dean, no! I’m telling you, you’re just hurting yourself. Please don’t do this to yourself.”

Just as he reached the door, Dean turned around and muttered the three words he had said to himself every night for the past year, just loud enough so Sam could hear him.

“One more try.”

Dean slammed the door behind him and set out for the nearly vacant motel parking lot. He didn’t care that the sun hadn’t completely set yet and people were still out and about. He knew any bystanders would think he was insane. He just didn’t care about anyone else. All he cared about was getting his angel back.

“Castiel,” Dean began softly, his voice quivering slightly. “I am asking you one last time. Please come back. I’m begging you. Please.”

Dean spun around, hoping to be greeted by dark hair and blue eyes. But just like every other time, his wishful thinking failed him. And this time he really couldn’t take it.

Dean fell to his knees and looked up, tears beginning to cloud his vision.

He needed Cas. He needed to see the smile that had become a distant memory. He needed to feel the angel’s comforting hand on his shoulder once more. And more than anything, he needed to hear his voice again, because Dean was certain that the sound he had struggled to construct in his mind was nowhere near the voice he had grown to know.

“DAMMIT CAS!” he screamed. “SON OF A BITCH!”

Dean sulked his way back to the motel room, not wanting to hear Sam talk about how he was right. He knew that Sam’s words rang true; he felt worse than he did before.

Dean collected himself, breathing deeply before entering the room. Sam, sitting at the table, turned around with a look of compassion that suddenly grew into a grin larger than Dean had seen in years.

“What are you smiling about?”

“Turn around.”

Dean followed Sam’s instructions, positioning himself back towards his previous path. He stepped back slightly and blinked a few times to make sure that he wasn’t having some sort of hallucinogenic breakdown. There in the doorway stood no other but the trench coated figure that had been absent for a year. Dean smiled for the first time in what felt like months as he finally heard what he had desired to hear for so long.

“Hello, Dean.”


End file.
